34

The adrenaline was pumping full force. So intent on the task at hand, Decker almost missed him when he walked into Hollywood. But his peripheral vision took in the figure sitting on one of the blue hard plastic chairs, his face drawn and tired. With effort, Koby got to his feet.

“She’s with the detectives, I think.”

The desk sergeant looked up from his perch. Decker showed him his shield, exchanged a few words to be polite, then counted to five. He blew out air, then looped his arm around Koby. “How are you?”

“Not so brave as your daughter.”

“What happened?”

Briefly, Koby told him what had occurred.

Decker took in his words and listened intently, but something was off. Not that Koby wasn’t good because he was: straight face, loose posture, and good eye contact. He had probably fooled the detectives to whom he spoke. But Decker knew bullshit when he heard it, specifically because he knew his daughter. He heard her words and her phrases, not Koby’s punctuated speech patterns.

Decker gave him a hard eye. “Let’s take a walk.”

Koby eyed him back. “Thank you, but I think I shall stay here.”

Decker grew testy. “Five minutes.”

“I’m fine, sir. I want to wait for Cindy.”

“She’ll be there for hours.” Decker was all business. “Take a walk with me.”

“I will wait here, sir,” Koby said. “And if necessary, I will wait for hours.”

The lad had spoken.

This was just great. Decker was now in a pissing contest with his daughter’s boyfriend. And of course, that was the problem. Decker could bully his daughter. He knew all the tricks that parents knew. He knew when to go full force, he knew when to hold back, but eventually he could always make her come around because they had a history together. Koby was not just his daughter’s boyfriend. Koby was a thirty-two-year-old man with lots and lots of survivor skills and—Cindy’s father or not—he’d be damned before he let anyone shove him against a wall.

It was time to go back to the basics. Build some rapport and that meant finding a common denominator. That part was easy. Decker took a step back, giving him some personal space. He kept his voice low and urgent.

“Son, you want what’s best for Cindy, I want what’s best for Cindy. If she’s having a difficult time with those guys in there, you can’t help her. But I can. Please. I’m asking you for help for Cindy’s sake. Come outside and take a walk with me.”

Koby looked away. Then abruptly, he picked up his leather jacket. Decker held the door open and they took a few steps away from the station house onto Wilton Place. At this time of night, there was no car or pedestrian traffic. The darkness was gloomy, the air damp and gelid. Decker gave off a shudder from the chill.

“Let’s talk in my car. It’s warmer.”

Koby regarded him suspiciously.

“What?” Decker narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m going to roust you?”